


Cold Interlude

by TimeTravelingWriter



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Avian Hybrid Philza, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dadza, Family, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hybrids, Mentions of Blood, Minecraft IRL, Mob Hybrids, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Worldbuilding, philza centric, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, slight au-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeTravelingWriter/pseuds/TimeTravelingWriter
Summary: "The day after the incident.I felt cold, guilty, torn apart from the inside. I remember leaving after the battle, many perished.This new place is very nice, though empty of all life. I like the ice. It reminds me of something from a long time ago.An empire I once helped a friend grow to power and take over the world. That was fun. Simple times.After much thinking and solitude, I have grown to learn the meaning of the afterlife. I found totems, many totems, gold and gems. Ancient scriptures tell me of a way to bring people back to life. This is my calling. I have to save him from the cold emptiness."-from the Arrival, by Philza MinecraftorPhilza after the Manberg vs Pogtopia War.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	1. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philza flees away from the bloodied battlegrounds.

* * *

Within the blood-stained grounds of L’Manberg, Philza stood. A shining blade in his hand, he panted, drowning out the screams of people and cackles of fire. He stood, suspended, like a pendulum. Immobile as the carnage continued. His wings raised behind his back, poised, ready to strike anyone who dares to try and harm him.

Every fibre of his being, primed, hyper-focused on his surroundings. Breathing became harder after he inhaled the smoke. Every heaving breath more painful than the last. The battle was not over, not for a long time. He wanted to close his eyes. With each minute, the weight on his back felt heavier.

_Heavier._

Heavier, like the weight of the world have been pushed to his being. Like Atlas, forced to bear the weight of the world. He turned to the sounds of fighting, of people shouting, of a loud bang as more fireworks were detonated.

He had long since lost his bow, still, he fought with the blade as his only weapon. He gripped the sword tightly before charging back into the fray. With practiced motions, he brought down the blade, with each strike he felt his body burn.

The fight was long drawn out, everyone doing their best to strike at the right moment. Between all the fighting and the burning buildings, Philza knew that somewhere, in the battlefield, were his—

_~~No, you are not their father. How can you be?~~ Your son is dead._

—sons, he knew they were there. Knowing them they would fight till the end. It was the only reason why he stayed and fought. Why he was there, after what he did. He stayed for them. Even if every part of him screamed for him to give up.

_Give up._

A foreign thought. For as long as Philza lived and breath not once did he even consider giving up. Even in his loneliest times he held strong and soldiered on. But now, after years of living and surviving, he wanted to give up. He wanted to rest his laurels. Even in the middle of the battlefield, he felt tired, feeling weary. Weary of living on.

He began to shout instructions, warning the others that the Wither was about to change its attack patterns. Phil knew how dangerous the Wither can be, once it had its armour, tridents and arrows are basically useless against it. He rushed to the side of the mob, intent on dealing some damage. It was a mistake.

Caught off-guard, he was pushed unto his back. The air leaving his lungs. His wings were able to catch him, almost cradling him. He wanted to give up then and there. On the middle of the country his sons built up from the ground.

 _Nobody would be wiser; they wouldn’t know_ , his mind whispered treacherously to him. He looked up to the sky, noticing the stars. He blinked.

He took a hold of the sword, ready to fight again. His wings were bruised from the fall but he did not care. It was time to finish the fight, he was too tired to go on if it goes any longer. He fought while the stars were watching him.

* * *

Phil didn’t stay long. He left quickly before anyone else noticed. Before the adrenaline within him even had time to subside. He knew he had done the unforgivable. He should have been purged by the Withers that were summoned at the battle. He left the people he considered his sons letters, hoping that it was enough. He did not look back.

_He did not look back._

Not when looking back means facing his... his sons and telling them why he wasn’t fit to be their father. His sons, they deserve better than him. Not when looking back means telling them why his hands were stained red.

_Red._

Red from the blood of their brother. From the blood of his son. Red in ways that can never be scrubbed clean. Red that means death, pain, and guilt. Guilt of a father.

It was still dark when he left. The flames burning L’Manberg were the only things that saw him leave. His wings were folded in his back, hidden by his cloak to avoid attention. He followed the stars. They have never led him astray before. They gave him the world once, maybe they could give him the solace that he needed to find.

* * *

It was cold. Phil could see the air when he breathes out his mouth. He clung to his cloak tighter, his wings tucked tightly to his body, desperate to retain the heat. He needed to find someplace, he needed it fast.

The journey was difficult, exhausting in a way that his past travels never have been. The day quickly turned to night and by the time he found the mouth of a cave, his body felt numb. He wasted a whole day just to find the cave. He went in deeper, intending to find the proper place to camp.

He chose a place secluded enough that his light will not burn out because of the harsh winds outside the cave. He sat there thinking, as he tried to process the events that happened at L’Manberg. The flames of the campfire he just created began to warm up the cave. He felt his hands shake, trembling. He rubbed the together, trying steady them.

It wouldn’t stop shaking. He brought it closer to the fire. It didn’t stop. He clenched his fist, he avoided looking at them. He’s built monuments with his hands, created wonders that amazed people far and wide but still, he couldn’t help but remember what they did.

_What he did._

There was a blizzard, Philza couldn’t see the stars. Only cold numbness awaits outside. He tried to finally rest after being awake for so long. He couldn’t. He tossed and he turned, trying to find the perfect way to sleep. With a sigh, he pushed wood into the fire. Watching as the flames rose higher, crackling as they mesmerize him.

It was the closest thing he had for a star. Its warmth washed over him, warming him deep into his bones. He stretched his wings, mindful at how they ached.

He made a torch. If he couldn’t sleep then he might as well explore the cave. He wandered in deeper. He stumbled across some ruins; ancient writings carved upon the walls of the cave. Putting the torch closer, he touched the markings.

“Where did you bring me?” Phil murmured mostly to himself.

He inched closer, wary. Now that he knew that there may be traps laid out to protect the place. He lit up another torch before throwing it carefully forwards. He hoped no mobs spawned in the darkness. The air became stale as he went on onwards.

He found more ruins. Some kind of structure began to take shape. Pillars of stone bricks lined the walls. Some are cracked but many stood the test of time. It was grandiose, the celling of the cave grew taller and the sides wider the further he went on. Moss seemed to grow abundantly as he went in deeper.

Then there he was, standing at what looked like the entrance of the mysterious ruins. He was suddenly aware of how tired he was. His body ached, feeling the cold. He felt sticky, realizing he was covered in sweat and dirt. It felt like years since he last cleaned himself up.

In the end, he decided to return to his temporary camp. His mind full of questions, distracting him from self-loathing thoughts. As he drew nearer the fire, he caught a glimpse of the mouth of the cave. It was strangely quiet; the storm must have stopped. Making his decision, he went outside. Blowing out his torch when he did.

It was peaceful. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. He wanted to see the stars. No, he needed to see them. There in the night sky, they sparkle. Bright and mesmerizing to watch. Whenever when was troubled, he turns to them. The stars were the one constant in his life. They gave him everything.

He could not help but ask them, “Why did you bring me here?”

Phil could not help but wonder why. There must be something, a reason. Was he not done with life? Maybe this will be his penance, a price he must pay for failing. Failing his sons. He felt his eyes water, his breath stilled for a second. The coldness of the air kept him awake, making him feel more alive than ever.

He did not receive any response. No one answered him. In the frozen darkness of that night, he was alone. There was no one there but him and the glimmering shine of millions of stars.

Philza never felt more alone.

* * *

When he woke, every part of him ached. His head throbbed in pain. He felt cold, frozen stiff, the fire snuffed out during the night. He gave the dying ambers more wood. He watched as the flames rose like a phoenix being reborn from the ashes. Even after resting, he felt tired, small, unlike the flames that were growing bigger with each second. He wanted to curl into himself.

Every injured part of him was screaming for him to take care of it. He reached out to his inventory looking for something, something that will help him heal. There was nothing, only weapons made of glimmering diamonds. His inventory was full of things designed to harm, _to kill,_ other people.

_Wasn’t it always?_

He needed to get his bearings. He needed to take care of himself. He went outside carrying a bucket before filling it with snow. It was beautiful. Apparently, he woke up just in time to see the sunrise. He wanted to share it. With someone? He doesn’t know. Phil shook his head before going back inside.

He placed the bucket near the fire, waiting for the snow to melt. With nothing to do, he began to think, clearing his mind. He remembered the sunrise outside. It was amazing. Techno would probably just ignore it, having seen it many times before when training. Tommy would just complain about being woken up too early to even appreciate it. But Wilbur, he would just say how beautiful it was, maybe he would even sing a song.

Phil knew that if he shared the sunrise with Wilbur, his son would create songs or poetry just for him. Wilbur liked to see the beauty of things. He loved seeing the sunlight pass through the leaves of the tree. Of seeing floating lanterns in the sky as they dance with the cosmos.

He felt something drip to his cheek. He looked up to the cave ceiling, looking if there was a leak. There was nothing there. He wiped it off with his hand, a drop fell again. His vision blurred.

Oh—

_Oh._

_He was crying._

Everything came crashing down on him. For the first time since the events in L’Manberg, Philza openly wept. He mourned for his son. He mourned for his family. He mourned for what he lost. He sobbed, unable to stop the tears from flowing.

He thought about his regrets. When he first got his sons, he never thought he would be the one to mourn for one of them. He imagined them to be the one who would mourn, they would mourn because he was reckless and stupid. He never knew how painful it was to be a parent.

_A failure of a parent._

It was his fault he knew, somehow, he knew it was his fault. Wilbur, his dear sweet Wilbur was gone and it was all his fault. With his own two hands he—

“I’m sorry,” he whispers like a mantra.

“Wilbur, son—” he stammered, “I, I failed you. I wish it was me…”

He let out all the anguish that he felt. His frame shaking at the thought about his son.

“God, I wish it was me…”

He did not do anything productive that day. He sat there until the fire died down and became ashes. That night, in freezing wilderness he sat down under the stars. It was cold, but it didn’t matter because inside he was just numb.

In his hand was a lantern, the only thing that was warming him up. Phil wanted to remember his son in some way. Wilbur, when he was younger, he liked the stars. He said he wanted one of his own, he wanted to make a star of his own.

So Phil learned how to make floating lanterns, the closest thing they could have for a star. He learned for his son. They would make them together, letting it fly while saying that it was Wilbur’s star. He remembered how happy his son was when he first showed it.

_Wilbur was so happy._

He released the lone lantern to the sky. Watching as it danced along the night sky. At that moment, he liked to imagine that it was his son who floated away. That it was his son who was waving goodbye while he was going back to the cosmos that gave him away in the first place.

Philza didn’t want to look at the stars.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really inspired by that book Philza wrote for Ghostbur. You know, the one called the Arrival. I'll roughly follow it but I'll still take creative liberties. If it's ooc please tell me 'cause I'm new to the fandom. Also English is not my first language, if you have any questions or suggestions go to my  tumblr.  (Edit: changed small bits because I wanted to be as close to canon as possible.) Also if canon-compliant why Sleepy bois? Simple, I wrote this before it was decanonized now I have to suffer. Will explain further in the future.


	2. Social Interaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor comes to see Phil, he gets some much needed social interaction.

* * *

The first week flew fast. He didn’t explore the ruins, at least not yet. All he did was resource gathering and he mostly took care of himself. It was lonely, but he knew how to handle it. Slowly but surely, he began to feel better. Physically, he’s almost healed but emotionally the guilt was eating him from the inside. Maybe someday he could go back and face the people he had hurt.

_Someday._

It was Techno who found him first. Philza was coming back to the cave after gathering more wood. He shot a few rabbits along the way, intending to eat them later that night. He was a few blocks away from the cave when he heard a noise come from inside.

Phil immediately grabbed his axe, readying himself for a fight. He was so sure he made the whole thing spawn proof from mobs. He didn’t hesitate, charging in as fast as he could without alerting whatever was inside the cave. He missed being able to just swoop in.

He immediately froze when he saw Techno, his son—

_Not your son,_ his mind whispered. _You aren’t a father, you never were._

—murmuring while trying to light up the campfire. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. Gears turning in his head, trying to find a reason why his _~~son~~_ friend was there.

Philza wasn’t ready. Technoblade, of course, it was him. The self-proclaimed Human GPS would find a way to track him down. Phil wanted to laugh; he has always coped using humour, it was one of the things he shared in common with Techno.

He slowly backed away, feet treading lightly, avoiding the crunch of the snow. He hoped Techno wouldn’t notice, maybe he should stay longer away from the cave just until Techno got bored and go away. He was a few inches out from the cave when he saw Techno tilt his head, sniffing the air.

“Phil,” he called out, tone confident that someone would hear him.

Philza froze, his wings tensing for a moment, hoping that Techno would second guess himself and forget everything. He should have known; Techno never did second guess himself.

“I can smell you, you know,” Techno said while pointing at his snout, “Surely you haven’t forgotten about it, old friend.”

_Old friend_ he said. _Not a father,_ his mind repeated.

_You’ve always known you’re not his father_.

_Why did it hurt?_

_~~Blood dripping down the sword.~~ _

_**Killza.**_

_Laboured breathing. Murmured apologies._

_Blood._

_Pain._

He banished those thoughts from his mind, trying to focus only at the present. The snow, yes, the cold air nipping at his face. The wet feeling of the freezing atmosphere. Forget the blood, there is no blood.

Technoblade, Techno was there. Philza blinked.

“Wait, don’t tell me— Ha! You really are old. Chat say it with me, Oldza, Oldza, Oldza,” mirth was heard on his voice. It was strange, hearing a voice that wasn't his, Phil thought.

“Fuck,” Phil said, his voice rough from disuse. “Fuck,” he said again, this time louder.

It was true, he forgot. With Techno being a hybrid himself, a Piglin hybrid, his senses were heightened than average humans. Phil felt his shoulders slouch in defeat. He sighed as he tried to meet the eyes of his friend. Techno was just laughing, his crown shaking, at his forgetfulness.

“I’m not that old Techno,” Phil tried to say. The laughter was refreshing. It made him remember another place, another era before they ever went to this server. He walked back inside the cave.

“Sure, keep tellin’ yourself that.” Techno glanced at him before taking out his flint and steel, finally lighting up the campfire.

Scrubbing his face, Phil threw the wood he collected back to one of his many chests. He peeled his gloves away, intending to warm his fingers using the fire. "Hi mate," he said cheerfully as he could. As soon as he got near Techno nudged his head in greeting.

Techno smiled at him, eyes crinkling as he leaned away from the fire, “So you live here now?”

Phil grimaced, he eyed how messy the whole cave was. A few sticks scattered about, some soft materials lying around, “This place is just temporary. Look, I know it’s just a cave and I can do better than this but there is… there is something important here.”

Techno just hummed in response, “Well to be fair, this is way better than livin’ on a ravine. Imagine livin’ on one, heh, not me of course.”

“Yeah,” Philza half-heartedly replied. There was a lull in between them, neither knowing what to say next. Phil stared at the dancing flames in front of him, basking at the warmth it provided, not realizing how Techno took a notice of how he dishevelled looked.

The silence lasted for a few minutes, only the sound of the crackling fire was heard. Phil busied himself by sorting out his inventory. With every tap he made he could feel the gaze of his friend staring down at him, making him feel on edge.

“Techno, why? Why are you here?” Philza finally asked, avoiding eye contact, looking at the fire.

“So, you’re not gonna ask how I found you?” Techno replied back, not bothering to answer the question.

Philza stopped looking at the fire and instead gave him a long, level look trying to discern why Techno was there, “No, I know you’re capable. You must have done some triangulation shit or something. It’s just, why would you try to find me?”

“So, I can’t just visit you now?” Techno drawled.

“You can but—” A loud neigh could be heard echoing inside the cave, interrupting Phil. He blinked in surprise.

“That’s Carl by the way. He’s the best horse in this server, well the third best to tell the truth,” Techno said while pointing the said horse wearing a diamond armour, “Chat, relax Carl is ok, he’s probably just hungry or somethin’. Isn’t that right Phil?”

“Right,” Philza replied unsure, “The cave is spawn proof, so no need to worry about that.”

Technoblade stood up, taking out a golden carrot from his inventory, to feed Carl. Loud chomping noises were heard as the horse enjoyed the golden carrot.

It made Phil smile, “Only you would be rich enough to feed your horse a golden carrot on the regular.”

“Ehh, what can I say. Carl is special. I didn’t spend all those times breedin’ wild horses just so I can get a super horse then just let him eat normal food. Phil, I invested. Now I have to take care of him. Chat seems to favour him, so I say it’s a win-win.”

Philza sighed, feeling tired all of a sudden, he glanced at the setting sun, “It’s getting dark Techno, do you want to stay here for a while? I know you can handle those mobs out there but I just want to ask.”

“Uuuuuhh, sure. Carl needed to rest anyways. Man, you went this far out huh.” Techno scratched Carls mane, before removing the harness and armour so the horse could rest.

Phil brought out the rabbits he shot from his inventory, “Do you want to help me prep for supper?”

“Yeah, let me just make sure Carl is comfortable,” Techno replied, fixing the leash before helping Phil.

It was like the old days like they never parted ways. Each movement was more familiar than the last. Phil cracking some jokes as they cleaned the food, Techno showing off his knife skills that he learned from different servers. It made Phil feel lighter than he had ever felt for the past week.

Suddenly, breathing wasn’t so hard anymore.

* * *

They ate silently, the rich broth of the stew warmed their soul. It tasted familiar, like the ones they use to eat back at the good old days. Philza appreciated it, he may not remember much as he would like due to server hopping but the taste of the soup was one of the things he remembered.

Phil wasn’t sure how much of the empire Techno recalled but for Phil it was mostly the small things. Things that may seem unimportant and inane to others, but for Phil it was everything. The cold was especially evoking, memories come forth the more time he spent on the icy plains.

He continued eating his stew, savouring every bite. Each slurp of the broth better than the last, he couldn’t help but compliment he friend, “Techno, mate, this is amazing. Those potatoes really did make the stew taste better.”

Phil smiled before noticing the intense gaze coming from Techno, red eyes boring down at him. “What? Why are you staring? Is there something in my face?” He asked worried, already reaching to wipe his cheeks.

“Uhh, Phil?” Techno asked, voice unsure.

The tone of his voice sent a spike of adrenaline through Phil. It was rare for Techno to sound unsure. Dread began to pool in his stomach as he watched Techno’s facial feature change so fast, “What is it Techno?”

“Phil,” He sounded so distressed, so worried. “Phil, your wings. What happened? They’re messed up. Who did that to you? Tell me their names, I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them Phil,” Anger was heard in Techno’s tone, mouth foaming as he said so.

Philza’s insides did a flip, “Oh, it’s that…” Instinctively twitching his wings.

“Heh? What do you mean ‘it’s that’? How can you fly if your wings are broken?” Confusion was written on his face.

Phil pushed his bowl back to the table, deciding that he was done eating, “Are you done eating? I want to take a walk.”

Techno hesitated for a moment before slurping the last of his stew. Phil walked in the front of Techno, letting him take a look at the damage done to his wing. It made him feel conscious of his wings.

The frigidness of the air blasted his senses, making him shiver as he stepped outside the warmth of the cave. There was no snow falling that evening, howls of foxes heard on the background. The twinkling of the stars ever-present as they made their way to a fallen log.

“Phil you still haven’t explained to me why your wings are like that,” Techno said as he sat down, arm crossed in front of his chest. Red cloak still vibrant in the dim light.

“It’s… it’s broken. It burned during the whole L’manberg thing. I neglected it for too long and it got infected, my fault really.” Phil paced as he explained what happened, his haori fluttering in the wind. He tried stretching his wings, hissing when a spike of pain went through one of them.

Techno brought out a torch leaning closer to see the damage done. Phil almost didn’t want to see how Techno reacted. “It looks bad I know but you should have seen it after the whole thing, it was fucked up,” He tried to crack a joke, giggling as he did so. “I think it also broke when I fell unto my back, hollow bones and all that jazz.”

Techno gritted his teeth in response, he reached out. His hands hovering over the wings, “Can I touch them?” He asked softly.

Phil hesitated, having another person wanting to touch the burn marks made it all too real but it was Technoblade. One of his oldest friends, one of the people he considered his son even if it was only Phil himself that thinks of it. If he couldn’t trust him then who could he trust?

“It’s fine Phil, it’s alright if you don’t want me touching it,” Techno said.

“No, It’s alright mate. Go on, you can touch it, just be careful to not go against the grain of the feathers,” Phil stood a little closer, “It hurts but it’s healing quite nicely. I did the best I could with what I had.”

Philza tipped his hat lower, avoiding looking at Techno. He let out a barely audible gasp as warm fingers met the exposed part of his wings. At first his he held his shoulders tight, sensitive to every movement but as the time went on and he became more comfortable he was able to loosen up.

Fingers made their way across his feathers, aligning the crooked ones they encounter. He let out a contented trill, relief palatable in the air. He was so lost in the moment that he never heard Techno’s question, “How did your wings even burn? I didn’t light any fire, nothin’ that was close to you anyway.”

It has been a long time since he had let other people touch his wings. Not to the degree that his friend was doing. The coldness of the biome didn’t matter, his eyes drooping as he tilts his head towards Techno, “Hmm? Sorry, what was that mate?”

“I asked if—” Techno brought out a shield as an arrow whizzed towards them, completely ruining the moment, potion particles drifting in the air. With a swift motion, he swiped his sword unto the head of the stray that was attacking them, decapitating it immediately.

Upset, Phil brought out his sword, “This place is not well lit, let’s go back to the cave. I don’t really want to deal with mobs right now.”

Techno quirked an eyebrow, “You’re not stayin’? Aren’t you goin’ to look at the stars or something?”

Phil stopped walking for a moment, remembering that Techno knew he liked looking at the stars. It was one of the things he used to do back at the empire, sometimes Techno would even join him. He gripped his sword tighter. He swung harshly at the zombie that was approaching him.

He was careful to not let his wings move too much, lest they get damaged more, “I don’t look at them anymore,” he said unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Techno was shocked, “You don’t?”

_Bloodied hands._

_Burnt wings._

_Heavy heart._

**_~~Dad.~~ _ **

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo again! Such a long time eh? Before I continued this fic I wanted to study Philza's character further and during erm, Doomsday, we certainly saw it. I wanted to follow canon as much a possible because I like filling out the holes and unshown scenes the best. Obviously, there will be headcanons incorporated here and there because worldbuilding pog! Also, Zablr if you're seeing this please take me in, I need clout. I also changed the title from Colder to Cold Interlude because the former kinda sucks.


End file.
